COMING SOON HOUSE ADVERTISING ads_leader
Fly By
This adolescent Condor soared obligingly for the cameras.Arequipa is Peru’s second city, though you wouldn’t think so by the look of the small airport we flew into from Cuzco. The flight itself was highly scenic and ranks right up there with flights in the US south west for marvellous views of desert scenery with the added splendour of threading our way around 6000 metre high volcanic peaks as we came in to land. Fortunately the volcano that recently became very active is some 60km away and no threat to us, though sadly not so for the locals there who are losing livestock and being threatened with evacuation.
The now familiar guide book warnings about the dangers of theft and rogue taxi services are backed up by the leaflet handed to us at the airport’s hotel information counter which recommended just three taxi companies out of what turned out to be hundreds. We are apparently spared the ordeal of risking all that we own by claiming a place on the free shuttle service, only to watch our bags thrown unsecured onto the roof rack. How they stayed there on the sometimes rally like journey into town, including the quick stop in a busy street whilst the driver re-secured
Not a Condor
This bird was a whole lot easier to photograph. the spare wheel that fell off from under the van, I will never know.
We’re finally coming down from the excessive altitudes of the last few weeks, Arequipa being a mere 2,400 metres (about 7000 feet) above sea level, and the sunshine is glorious after the grey and sometimes wet weather of the mountains. Our accommodation for the next three nights is the elegant Sonesta Posadas del Inca, right on the central Plaza de Armas square. The balcony, with its superb views of the square, the colonial colonnades and the cathedral, not to mention the ready supply of beer and Pisco Sour (the very fine tasting Peruvian grape brandy spirit) quickly becomes a favourite Peruvian location.
The Santa Catalina convent, walled off like a mini forbidden city, makes for a colourful few hours. The walls and courtyards are painted orange and blue and its narrow traffic free streets are quite peaceful to wander. Easily pleased by bright colours I enjoy the experience and for a few hours play at being a photographer, though the results prove otherwise. C is a little less impressed by such religious extravagances, especially when she learns that the nuns had to be restricted
Pre-Incan Cemetary
Even the dead are lined up for the tourists. to only one servant at one stage.
The main event of our stay in Arequipa however, is not the city where the locals pelt visiting presidents who displease them, but a two day trip out of it to visit one of the deepest canyons in the world; the beautiful Colca Canyon. Given that we haven’t developed the care free almost suicidal attitude to life that is a pre-requisite it seems for driving one’s own vehicle here we are forced to join up with a tour, not the most liberating way to see the world.
Our trip includes an overnight stop in the village of Chivay, nestled in the upper Colca valley. The trip there is a lengthy journey on paved and unpaved roads passing by some impressive volcanic scenery with the peaks themselves; Misti, Chachani and Pichu Pichu reaching up nearly 6000 metres and, just visible in the distance, the Ubinas volcano belching out ash. We had thought that we were done with excessive altitude so it is perhaps fitting that we reach our personal best, a lung busting 4,910 metres above sea level. Here thousands of people, mostly tourists I suspect, have erected their own Apucheta’s, small
rock piles to appease the gods of the volcanoes and which makes the scenery bristle. Thankfully we’re headed downhill after this point, though only to the 3,600 metre high Chivay. We have a quick hour or so to settle into our hotel before it’s off on a two hour trek into the Colca valley. C, smarting still from the Isla del Sol death march elects to rest up and it falls to me to take on the role of holding every one up whilst I struggle breathlessly up the slightest of inclines. Apart from views of the patchwork arable fields across the valley and ancient Incan and pre-Incan terraces that are still being cultivated by the local population today, the highlight of the trek is the pre-Incan cemetery; small brick built shelters at the base of a cliff, with windows so that the new residents can see the gods they are about to meet. Although long since the victims of grave robbers, we can still see bones and skulls littered around. The tour guide explains that upper valley residents used wooden boards tied to the head with rope to mould their children’s heads into thin long shapes whilst lower valley
Colca Canyon
Early morning residents preferred flat head shapes. A couple of skulls illustrated the practise quite graphically. The Spanish banned this exercise in infantile deformation so the people today represent it in their choice of head wear.
Back at the hotel there is just enough time to appreciate a pre-dinner drink before rejoining the tour group for what was surely going to be an uncomfortable evening of traditional shows especially designed for the tourist. We unwittingly crash a fifth anniversary celebration the hotel staff were giving themselves which results in an awkward standoff, neither us nor them quite sure what to do with ourselves. C tried to look busy with the guest comments book in the lobby but it all became too much when the manageress ordered everyone up dancing. Thankfully the time came for us to make our excuses and descend the many steps to the road below in order to await our pickup.
We dutifully sit outside the hotel at the appointed hour and, 45 minutes, many stares from the locals passing by and a significant drop in temperature later we drag our freezing bones back up to the hotel when it becomes apparent that the bus is never
going to pick us up that night. Whilst the staff party appears, thankfully, to be over they are nevertheless very accommodating in interrupting the celebratory meal they are just starting to serve themselves in order to provide us with food and drink. After a linguistically shambolic attempt to apologise to them for disturbing their own celebrations we order what we thought would be the easiest prepared dishes from the menu, risk choking to death as we scoff it down as quick as we can and retreat sheepishly to our room.
We found out the next day that the evening entertainment had been cancelled due to lack of interest. Fair enough, but a call from the tour guide to let us know would have been nice, and would definitely not have jeopardised the tip she was otherwise entitled to for her very knowledgeable services. Under that little cloud but otherwise glorious weather we journey on into the Colca valley, stopping off every now and then to look at churches, children dancing in traditional costumes and photo opportunities of tethered animals. Eventually we get into the Colca canyon itself, a journey that is accompanied by a reasonably in depth analysis from
the tour guide as to why this and its neighbouring canyon are, contrary to popular opinion, the deepest canyons in the world. I’m sure that those with a vested interest in the Grand Canyon of the Colorado would differ but what is not subject to dispute is the fact that the Colca is a worthy entrant in the list of ‘Great Canyons We Have Visited’. The Grand Canyon is undeniably big but with the Colca, stuck sometimes precariously on the side as you are and with peaks still towering above, you get a much better sense of scale. The other great thing about the Colca is that it is the home of the Andean Condor and we are very fortunate to witness a number of ‘soar bys’ from these big beautiful creatures. Uncharacteristically for a tour we actually get to spend a reasonable amount of time here, though it is still too soon when we are finally dragged back to the bus for our return journey home.
We return for one night to Arequipa before flying on to Lima the next day. We made a small miscalculation about the nature of Lima airport, thinking that a facility that served
a capital city would surely have a hotel information board, therefore no need to book ahead. We find out just how false an assumption that is when we arrive. At least the lack of accommodation allows us to negotiate the inevitable gauntlet of pushy taxi drivers touting for surely over-priced business more easily than normal, though we can’t admit to them that we had nowhere to stay lest they add a whole village of dodgy hotel recommendations to their range of offerings. We are eventually able to book a room in what our guide book calls ‘most luxurious hotel in central Lima’ only to find that central Lima hotels must be really dire if this one is the best. It isn’t all that bad by 1920’s standards which was apparently when the author from the guide book visited it, but today it has the definite air of something out of a horror movie. The fact that the interconnecting door to the next room can not be locked from either side is a tad concerning, though we can’t quite bring ourselves to raid the mini bar next door. Not really being city people the evening is spent trying to arrange onward
Valley to Canyon
The point at which the Colca valley becomes the Colca canyon travel straight out of Lima which means we get only a brief appreciation of the actually quite pretty central square lit up at night.
Our travel arrangements results in a reservation in a highly recommended hotel resort in Ica, 300km south of Lima, and the necessary information to catch the bus there. Unfortunately we miss the vital piece of information that in order to catch the bus from the central Lima station we have to go to an entirely different bus station many kilometres away in a Lima suburb in order to buy the ticket, though this was the result of an only vaguely understood conversation with the hotel receptionist. As a result we miss our midday bus and have to hang around another three hours for the next one. This is a ramshackle looking vehicle which takes two hours longer than we expect to complete the journey. Most of this can be accounted for in a chaotic stop on the outskirts of Lima surrounded by a lot of dodgy looking men and at least one backpack toting individual being escorted forcibly up the road. The unexpectedly long journey means we end up at a dodgy looking bus station
in central Ica after sunset fending off the attentions of our new best friend called Christian. He was trying to entice into the back of his three wheeled taxi so that he could take us to some hostel or other that was surely the best value for money in town. Fortunately we were able to convince him that we already had somewhere booked, but this did force us into trying to do something that we have so far considered too dangerous to do in South America; flag a taxi down in the street. We did try and call the hotel to get them to send out a taxi for us but along with the unhelpful advice to just ‘catch a taxi’ they deny all knowledge of having a reservation for us, though fortunately they do have rooms still available. This is the only time in South America that caused the normally unflappable C some concern for our personal safety. Being a natural worrier myself this was familiar territory for me.
We spend the next two days cosseted in the comfort of the resort complex though we did once take our lives, along with a pair of reins, into our
Top of the World
Llamas grazing as we drive back to Arequipa. hands and tried the horse ride through the dunes. There was briefly another couple with us, but the chap’s horse only got two hundred yards out of the resort before deciding enough was enough and made a unilateral decision to return to the stables. The poor chap on its back had no choice but to go with it and we watched as he held on for dear life whilst the horse cantered back home. A little subdued at witnessing this, we stuck with a desultory walk through some of the less attractive neighbourhoods on the outskirts of Ica, never quite getting to the dunes and readily agreeing to head back as soon as the rather grim looking and uncommunicative leader suggested it.
Given that our next night would consist of waiting until the early hours and then catching a couple of flights totalling some 8 hours in the air, spending our last night in the resort trying to drink them out of Peruvian wine was probably not the best thing to do. Playing draughts on the 15ft chessboard into the early hours was fun though, especially as I won just about every game. We had to call it a
Aah!
Vicunias, amazingly undiscovered by Disney, looking cute. day when we started to have trouble focusing on the pieces, even though they were 2ft high. Wary of repeating the bus trip down we arrange a highly expensive and somewhat dubious private vehicle to complete the 4 hour trip back to Lima airport. It was only after we sail happily through Pisco, about a quarter of the way into the journey, without stopping to take on gun toting thieves that I begin to relax and believe that we have actually hired a legitimate, albeit not quite on the books service here. I think of all the chances we have taken in South America, and we try hard not too, this one was the most risky.
After that there is little to tell to bring us up to date with our current sunny location in Copacabana, Rio de Janeiro. The arrival here at the hotel some 22 hours, one dubious van trip, three flights and an airport bus later was a special journey for us, one that leaves us wondering why our round the world ticket required us to fly from Lima to Rio via Santiago in Chile and Sao Paulo in Brazil. And why on earth did we
Climbing out of Arequipa
The landscape as we climb back into the Andes from Arequipa on our way to the Colca Canyon. go to Ica? If we had visited the nearby Nazca Lines whilst we were there that might have been fair enough, but we didn’t want to spend the money on that. Oh well.
A travellers guide to tour bus etiquette Having spent a fair amount of time now in South America being herded around with a group of strangers we’re getting used to the tour passenger etiquette, which seems to consist of the following rules…
* Don’t take your backpack/shoulder bag off before entering the bus. Keep it on and clout as many aisle seat passengers as you can as you negotiate the narrow passage to your seat.
* Take your time taking your seat. People love to queue.
* Stow your bag in someone else’s overhead storage and put your spare top in yours. The roads are often unpaved and you don’t want to injure yourself by falling baggage.
* Recline your seat at every opportunity. It’s your comfort that counts and sod the poor unfortunate behind you whose personal space for the duration of the journey now extends only a few inches from the end of their nose.
* Jam your knees into the seat
Baby Alpaca
Part of the same family as the Llama, but cuter. back in front of you. It’s a free massage for the person sat there.
* If you find yourself in an aisle seat, the aisle space is yours. Do not permit the adjacent aisle seat passenger any leg room privileges.
* Scenic view stops are exercises in aircraft evacuations. There is no such thing as an orderly disembarkation. Race for the exit and never ever give way to someone sat in front of you.
* Never return to the bus at the right time. The tour guide always factors in a 5 minute window for late arrivals and your fellow passengers will appreciate the extra time sat cooking in their seats.
* If you have a window seat any curtains there are your own personal property. Never mind that everyone on the bus is there to watch the scenery, you must protect yourself from the sun and draw those curtains. Leave a small peephole so that you can still watch the world go by yourself.
COMING SOON HOUSE ADVERTISING ads_leader_blog_bottom
Tot: 0.416s; Tpl: 0.024s; cc: 24; qc: 106; dbt: 0.3098s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.5mb
marcelou2
Marcelo garcia
Hello...
Congratulation!!! Amazing pictures; beautiful place!!, greetings from Argentina